


i never dreamed that i'd meet somebody like you, and i never dreamed that i'd lose somebody like you.

by reedus



Category: The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Amnesia, M/M, Memory Loss, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reedus/pseuds/reedus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl has to go to the bookstore, and ends up leaving with more than just some Swedish book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i never dreamed that i'd meet somebody like you, and i never dreamed that i'd lose somebody like you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smokeynights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeynights/gifts).



> Title from the song Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

When he enters the old-fashioned bookstore, Daryl momentarily forgets why he even came here, of all places. For that one or two minutes, he stands in the doorway of the store, all he can picture is the note on his fridge, reading " _Don't forget to pick up the present for Glenn from the bookstore today!"_ in sloppy handwriting and underneath the drawn smiley face was a name of book he'd never heard off. And he can see the other post-it notes around the apartment, in neater more readable handwriting, labeling items such as a cupboard with a purple post-it saying " _Cups in here"_ , or a cat dish with a box of cat food beside it with a note saying " _Don't forget to feed Sebastian before you leave!"_. Does someone else live with Daryl? Something does feel strange, like something is missing. 

Someone opens the door behind him, a breeze of cold winter air, sweeping up the end of his winter coat and leaving sprinkles of pure white snow on the back of his black jeans. Daryl moves cautiously into the shop, glancing at the name of the book that he scribbled down on the back of his hand. Daryl looks around the store; there's floor-to-ceiling shelves of books stocked in alphabetical order according to author, about six or seven people browsing through the latest novels and two employees wearing a dark grey tee-shirt with the words 'The Lost Bookstore' written in italics in white across the front.  _  
_

For ten minutes, Daryl roams the bookstore searching for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson, a name vaguely familiar to Daryl. He finds it beside two novels by the same author, presumably the next two books in a trilogy. He pulls out the paperback book, turned it over in his hand and checked the price and scan-reads the summary on the back. It's a large book, so Daryl flicks to last numbered page; 542 pages - lengthy but not impossible to read. He taps his fingers against his coat, checking whether he has money with him or not -thankfully he hears the coins  _clink_  against each other and the rustle of the $20 note underneath the coins. 

There's two people in front of him in the queue, giving Daryl unwanted time to fidget with his fingers and the pages of the book. The middle-aged woman standing in front of him holds a book in a foreign language unfamiliar to his eyes with a picture of a two-story white washed house on the cover. _Wonder what it's about_ , Daryl thinks as he plays with possible story lines in his head. Daryl looks around the store as the woman pays for her book, it came to $17.50, most likely beside it was a hardback. He offers her a small smile when she turns around to leave, to which she enthusiastically returns. 

Daryl takes the steps up to the checkout, "Hello," he says rather timidly and puts the book up on the counter. The worker, a dark haired man with bright blue eyes, behind the counter looks up at Daryl and beams of happiness. 

"Well, good mornin' beautiful," the worker smiles widely as he picks up the book to scan the bar code. Daryl uncomfortably shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He avoids the worker's eyes as he hands him the money for the book. When Daryl looks up at the man again, he notices something has replaced the happy glint in his eyes, something similar to sadness and hurt. Daryl doesn't understand, did this man's happiness go when Daryl didn't return the compliment? 

"Uh, thank you." Daryl says picking up the bag with the book in it and taking the change from the $20 bill from the employee. "See ya so." He nods politely and awkwardly smiles at him before turning on his heel and leaving the store. 

As he shoves his hands in his pockets and trawls through the snow, Daryl realises he doesn't know where he's going. He stops on the spot and looks around; it is only lightly snow, not affecting his view, the bookstore is behind him and a street of shops and shoppers are directly opposite him. The small bell over the bookstore door jingles as the heavy door is pulled inwards and swings shut. There is a crunch of snow under someone's boots as they walk towards Daryl. He turns around and is shocked to see the employee that served him. _And called me beautiful_ , he thinks, suddenly uneasy. 

"Hey," the employee calls out to Daryl as he rubbed his hands together to warm them up. "You 'right?" 

Daryl considers lying and saying that "he's fine" but ends up shaking his head. "I.. I can't remember where I'm s'pose to go.."

The other man smiles sadly, "I know where you're meant to be, c'mon." Daryl takes deep breath and reluctantly follows the man as he walks down the street watching his step so he won't fall.

They walk in silence for a few minutes until Daryl says, "Sorry, I just can't remember thangs like I used ta, y'know. I got in a accident last Christmas and suffered from some memory lost or somethang." 

The man doesn't say anything, just nods shaking some of the snow that landed on his hair onto his nose and collar of his coat. They turn the corner and are outside Daryl's apartment block. 

"Ah, this is it. Thanks." Daryl says, smiling slightly at the man before starting to walk up the steps to the glass doors. The man remains on the pathway, looking up at Daryl. 

"Daryl," the man calls out. Daryl stops on the top step, frozen on the spot. _How does he know my name?_  Daryl thinks, his heart pumping too fast. _Actually how does he even know where I live?_ He spins around to look at the man, who looks like his world world has crumbled before him. The sudden rush of anger that Daryl felt has now been replaced with pity for the man. "You were making such great progress, Daryl." The man chokes up halfway through his sentence, fighting back the raw emotion in his voice. 

Daryl doesn't understand, why is this man so upset? His mind is racing, back to the crash, to his motorbike skidding on the invisible ice patch on the road, to his head colliding with the rock hard ground, back to semi-waking up in the ambulance and hearing the paramedics fanatically talk to one another, to reliving the pain everyday in hospital for six months, back to finally coming home to his apartment that has a fluffy black cat and a closet of half his clothes and half of another man's clothes, to falling asleep with someone beside him, holding him tight and telling him how proud he is of Daryl. And the post-it notes, one has sloppy handwriting -Daryl's- and the other notes have neat official writing, different writing. Memories flood his mind, of kissing him for the first time in secret, for the first time in public, of the first time they had sex with each other, of the first time Daryl told him he loved him, of the fights and of the slamming doors and the shouting, but also of the times they just held each other for hours, sometimes whispering to each other as if speaking aloud and clearly would ruin it and sometimes in blissful silence, and God, when he cried, Daryl could feel his own heart break. Daryl could feel his heart break now.

"Rick," Daryl whispers, now facing him. Rick sadly smiles and swallows back tears. Daryl runs back down to him and pulls Rick into his arms. "Rick, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry. I never want to forget you again. It felt like a part of me was missing. I'm so fucking sorry Rick. I love you so much, I don't want to forget you. I love you too much to forget you." 

Rick lets the tears roll down his cheeks, too choked up to say anything but whisper into Daryl's ear, "I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> i really enjoyed writing this, even though i think i broke my own heart a little.. oh well. :) hope you liked it!!


End file.
